John Nickole

Your Hook 

I used to love the time we spent 

when we would walk along the shore, 

where waves brushed up our feet and went, 

where I would learn to love you more. 

We made a map of the lagoon: 

maputi, i’e’, once a shark. 

Still wriggling, bleeding pink-maroon, 

the ones you caught, “a true man’s mark.”  

By sea, you seemed to be at peace 

with who you were, the ocean’s son.  

I wonder if your heart could see 

there was no need for you to run.  

Release me from your memory, then, 

and watch your footprints fade away, 

erased in sand again and again 

‘til what remains is mine to break.